PEAROAST: Bob the Chef.
Back when I were a student...
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Bob the Chef was barking mad.
He worked in the kitchen I worked in, in a rural pub in West Wales.
It was quite a good little pub-restaurant, so the kitchen was large. Bob was deputy head chef, and he had love/hate relationship with the head waitress, a young woman cruelly nicknamed Shrek.
And when I say love/hate relationship, I mean drunken-bonking/totally-despise-each-other-until-the-next-round-of-drunken-bonking relationship.

On the day our story unfolds, they were very firmly in the 'totally despising each other' stage.
It was pre-service, so Bob was preparing fish. Beheading, gutting, deboning, scaling, etc. Shrek, as head waitress, was not involved in such menial tasks, and so was outside having a fag.

Shrek finished her fag and walked into the kitchen.
Up sauntered Bob with his mouth full, looking a little green.

SHREK: What?
BOB: Mmm-mmm-mmmm
SHREK: What?
BOB: Mmmm-mmmmm-mmmmm-mmmmmmm!
SHREK: What? I can't hear you.
BOB: *Beckons*

An inch away from Shrek's face, Bob opened his mouth a little to show her what was in there.

Shrek recoils in horror as Bob spits a whole fish-head into her apron pocket. Then he smiles winningly and goes back to the prep table as she has a complete and total breakdown.
Mank.
(universalpsykopath loves what you've done with your hair., Fri 3 Feb 2012, 13:16, Reply)